


Drunk in Love

by graciecon



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Karaoke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 20:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15826818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graciecon/pseuds/graciecon
Summary: When tequila and karaoke come together, all bets are off.





	Drunk in Love

**Author's Note:**

> I do not condone excessive alcohol abuse. Please drink responsibly. I do, however fully condone the kissing of super soldiers.

“What in the world is that?”

Sam Wilson lifted his head from the machine he was fiddling with. “It’s a karaoke machine, Y/N,” he said, a wide grin splitting his face. Natasha, Wanda, and Vision sat on the couches surrounding the massive TV screen in the common room while Sam hooked the karaoke machine up to the sound system. You looked at Natasha quizzically, who shrugged back at you and smiled. 

“And who exactly is planning on doing karaoke with you, Sam?” you asked, tucking your legs underneath your body as you sank into the corner of a couch.

“Everyone.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, the rest of the team filed into the room. Tony and Bruce were deep in conversation, having obviously been in the lab. Clint and Steve took their seats on the couch perpendicular to yours, Steve shooting you a bright smile. 

“Does that small box contain any Asgardian battle hymns?”

Thor’s booming voice came from right behind you, making you nearly jump out of your skin. You tilted your head up and back to glare good naturedly at him and he smirked, ruffling the top of your hair with his giant hand. You groaned quietly and reached up to smooth it down, just as Bucky crossed your line of sight and settled on your couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. You hoped you were not blushing but it was a weak hope. You had the nasty habit of not being able to control your face when Bucky Barnes was in the room.

You had moved into the Avengers Tower several months prior, after being recruited directly by Tony Stark himself, who had insisted that working for him was the safest bet for a former SHIELD agent in hiding. With the lease on your tiny New York apartment quickly coming to an end and the bright lure of the safety of Tony’s “New Avengers Facility”, you made the decision to take him up on his offer.

You had expected the transition to be awkward, considering you were going from a fairly solitary lifestyle to cohabitating with several larger-than-life characters. You had resigned yourself to staying out of the way as much as possible but found rather quickly none of your new roommates intended to allow that. Sam had insisted on pulling you out of your self-imposed quarantine for group events he took it upon himself to organize and tonight was no different. You had found a brightly colored post-it on your bedroom door demanding your presence in the common room earlier that afternoon. You were momentarily relieved that tonight’s entertainment did not consist of Monopoly, which Sam and Steve insisted on making everyone play, regardless of how many times it ended in fights or Mario Kart, a one-time occurrence when Peter had stopped by to spend time with the team and brought his ancient N64 with him. He had reassured Thor several times that he could find replacements for the two controllers the demigod had managed to somehow destroy, but no one had been very convinced. Of course, karaoke seemed like just as much a disaster of an idea and you began planning your escape as the group settled around the common room. Unfortunately for you, nothing escaped Nat’s eyes.

“Don’t even think about it, Y/N,” she said, her voice rising just above the amicable laughter and chatter. “If I have to do this, so do you.”

You grimaced, sticking your tongue out at her in an uncharacteristically juvenile display of defiance. Bucky chuckled low, a small smirk picking up one corner of his mouth. Your eyes met briefly at the sound of his laughter before you turned away from him abruptly, not trusting yourself not to stare. 

Sam finished hooking up the machine and stood up, glancing around the room. “Where’s Tic-tac?” he asked, as the elevator dinged and a loud voice replied, “What’s UP party people?”

Tony, Nat, and Sam groaned simultaneously. Scott danced into the room, holding two enormous bottles of Patron in each hand. 

“Oh no,” you muttered. Tequila and karaoke were the worst combination, particularly for someone with a low tolerance for alcohol and a penchant for singing wildly inappropriate songs whilst inebriated –that someone obviously being you. Scott and Sam knew this and you doubted this turn of events was purely coincidental. Sam also happened to be the only person in the room who knew how completely infatuated you were with Bucky, although you had your suspicions that he had blabbed to Steve who had probably told Nat. 

Scott had finally taken his seat and Sam grinned around at the room. “Okay, so here are the rules--,”

“It’s karaoke, Wilson,” Tony interrupted. “We’re all pretty familiar.”

Sam nodded, still smiling. “This is a little bit different, Stark. We’re gonna up the stakes a bit tonight.” He pointed to a glass bowl sitting on the coffee table. “I’ve written down some common words used in songs. Every time someone comes up to sing, you pull a word. If you sing the word, the rest of us take a shot. If you do not sing the word at all, you take two shots. This way, either we’ll be drunk enough to think you’re good or you’ll be too drunk to care.”

“Hang on!” Nat said, throwing her hands up, an annoyed look on her face. “The super soldiers can’t get drunk on normal tequila. This game is weighted in their favor.”

Sam’s grin became wholly mischievous. “Thor?”

Thor walked around the couch where he’d been standing and deposited what looked like a Grecian urn beside the tequila bottles. “The finest Asgardian whiskey, aged for millennia. Even a man of Rogers’ and Barnes’ abilities could not withstand such a spirit.”

The group all stared at the container apprehensively in silence before Sam broke it with the clinking of shot glasses. He handed everyone their glass, then looked at Tony who rolled his eyes. “I suppose I’ll start this mess,” he said, leaning over to pick a folded piece of paper out of the glass bowl. “Baby,” he read. “Wonderful.”

Sam turned the microphone on and handed it to Tony, then hit the ‘Shuffle’ option on the song choice. It landed on Don’t You Want Me by The Human League. The room erupted in laughter.

“How appropriate,” Rhodey guffawed. Tony shook his head but he was smiling too. 

“As I recall,” he called over the din of laughter, “this is a duet.” He looked pointedly at Rhodey, whose eyes widened in horror. 

“No, Tony,” Rhodey protested, as Sam deposited the second microphone in his lap. The song had already started and Tony pulled Rhodey onto his feet as he began to sing. Scott poured shots at record speed and the room simultaneously took their first shot as Tony sang the chorus. By the time it was over, you had imbibed four shots of tequila and stopped mid-song when you felt your body temperature begin to rise drastically. You watched Scott toss back shot after shot with mild fascination. You couldn’t even begin to fathom where he put it all. 

Bucky and Steve had each taken a shot of the Asgardian liquor and already seemed considerably less rigid in their seats. Tony concluded his serenade, looking significantly smug about not having to take any shots and about the look of shame on Rhodey’s face. “Wanda’s next,” he called out casually.

Wanda drew the word ‘want’ and the karaoke machine chose Miley Cyrus’ Wrecking Ball for her. You and Nat cheered her on between shots, occasionally singing her backup. You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you but you were just tipsy enough to have lost your overwhelming self-consciousness. Wanda tossed the microphone at Clint after taking a small bow to raucous applause. Clint’s word was ‘true’ and he wowed them all with a surprisingly smoky rendition of New York, New York after which he downed two shots. He handed the microphone off to Nat who grimaced when she drew the word ‘loneliness’ and then Baby One More Time by Britney Spears. Steve nearly choked on his shot as Nat did her best Britney imitation, swinging her hips seductively. She mostly sang the song at Bruce, who, it had to be noted, was perfectly capable of turning red as well as green.

Steve followed Nat, further surprising the group (and making Sam particularly proud) with Stevie Wonder’s Signed, Sealed, and Delivered, while the group took shots every time he declared he was “yours.” Sam and Rhodey teamed up for a hysterical duet of The Time of My Life and ended their performance by each taking two shots at the lack of the word ‘need.’ 

You were thoroughly enjoying yourself and were drunk enough to forget that the microphone would eventually land in your hands. You had gradually untucked yourself on the couch and subconsciously managed to slide closer to Bucky on the couch, who had his arm thrown casually behind you. You could still feel his eyes on you and you turned to meet his gaze. You could immediately feel the heat creep into your cheeks but you wrote it off as a symptom of the alcohol. His eyes flickered to your lips and then back up to your face. You couldn’t pull your eyes away from him, from the taut line of his jaw and the permanent five o’clock shadow that resided there or the steel blue of his eyes or the smirking curve of his mouth or –

“Your turn, Y/N!”

You blinked and tore your eyes from Bucky’s face only to have them land on Sam’s, whose expression could only be described as the worst kind of smug. You scowled at him and leaned forward to pull your word from the bowl.

“Love,” you read. “That’s a little obvious, isn’t it Sam?” 

Sam shrugged nonchalantly, still smirking at you as he hit the shuffle button again. The machine dinged as it landed on your song and Sam’s smirk threatened to completely engulf his face. 

“Fill ‘em up, Tic-tac,” he announced, his drunkenness making his voice boom louder than usual. “Come on up here, Y/N!”

You picked yourself up off the couch, using Steve’s shoulder to steady yourself as the shots you’d taken hit you all at once. You stumbled to Sam and snatched the microphone from him, glaring at him before turning to your audience. Your eyes landed on Bucky once again as the guitar and drums boomed from the speakers. 

“I want you to want meeee,” you sang, and despite your astounding inebriation and your nerves, your voice came out smooth and husky. “I need you to need me. I’d love you to love me, I’m beggin’ you to beg me…,” 

You were still staring at Bucky and you could not make yourself stop. You sang every line to him, barely looking at the lyrics on the machine’s display. You were well acquainted with the song and right then, you had Bucky’s perfect blue eyes to guide you through it. You wondered vaguely if Bucky was embarrassed by your drunken proclamation of love but he held your gaze firmly as you sang, a small smile playing the edges of his lips as he took his shots every time you insisted that you’d love for him to love you.

The song ended and the room was silent. You blinked, the quiet shattering the sudden veneer of courage you’d been laboring under and your eyes widened in horror. You had just sang a very straightforward love song to Bucky Barnes in front of all of the Avengers. Shamelessly. Drunkenly. You could feel the heat of embarrassment burning in your chest and you set the microphone down on the coffee table and moved to escape the common room but Bucky stood and blocked your way out. He offered you his hand and you took it, hoping he would be merciful. He led you out of the common room and down the hall to his bedroom. He stopped just outside, turning so that your back was pressed to the door. 

“B-Bucky?” 

He was looking down at you, his eyes searching your face. “How drunk are you?” he asked, his voice low.

You bit your lip. He was embarrassed. He was hoping you’d tell him that it was the tequila, that you hadn’t meant to put him on the spot in front of everyone, that is was just a song and that it meant nothing. You shrugged, not looking at him. “Pretty drunk, I guess,” you mumbled. 

“You guess?” He quirked one eyebrow. “I need you to be sure, Y/N.”

You felt irrationally angry or maybe you were just hurt and that’s how it manifested. You were well aware how mortifying your display had been but did he have to make you feel like a drunken idiot right at this moment? You glared up at him, which seemed to catch him off guard.

“I don’t know, Bucky,” you snapped. “Maybe I’m really drunk and maybe I’m not as drunk as either of us would like me to be. Either way, you can just forget what happened, okay? It won’t happen again.”

You moved to get away from him but he stopped you, pressing his palms to the door on either side of your head and moving closer until your body was more or less trapped. 

“Y/N,” he said softly, and his tone made you meet his eyes. The expression on your face drained the anger from you instantaneously. You were suddenly very aware of how close he was. You could smell mint and soap and cotton and it made your stomach tighten and heat pool low in your abdomen. God, he was beautiful, you thought. It was almost painful to look at him. Almost.

“Y/N?” Bucky said again. “I need to know how drunk you are before I kiss you.”

“W-what?” 

Bucky smirked. “I want to kiss you, but I want you to remember me kissing you tomorrow. So I need to know--,”

It may have been the tequila or it may have been the sheer proximity of his body to yours but you chose that moment to close the distance between you and press your lips to his. He tasted like the mint you smelled with just a hint of what you could only assume was Asgardian whiskey. He slanted his mouth against yours and licked at the seam of your lips, seeking entry. You sighed into his mouth, allowing him in and felt his hands fall from their place on the door to your hips. He pulled you closer to his chest, raising one hand from your hip to tangle in the hair at the base of your skull, effectively keeping your mouth locked with his. As if you would try to get away. As if you had dreamed of anything else since you had first laid eyes on him. 

The kiss lasted a few more seconds or minutes or years, because you honestly had lost all sense of time and space. Bucky pulled back and you whimpered quietly at the loss. His signature smirk returned and he pressed one more soft kiss to your lips before resting his forehead against yours. 

“If we keep going, I will have no choice but to take you right here and I have a feeling Tony will be displeased if I do,” he murmured and his voice and words sent the heat pooling in your abdomen straight between your thighs. “Besides,” he continued, stroking his hand down your cheek, your neck, your side, until he landed back on your hip, “I definitely want you to be sober for that.”


End file.
